


Smile for the Camera

by badcircuit



Series: The Chyna Chronicles [5]
Category: The Town (2010)
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badcircuit/pseuds/badcircuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jem Coughlin versus Chyna White, round 5.  This is sort of for a lovely anon on Tumblr, who suggested Jem make a sex tape with a nice girl who’s actually quite dirty.  I think Chyna qualifies. ;)  Ordinarily I don’t do requests because my brain doesn’t work that way but it liked this idea.</p><p>Jem’s not mine, all post beta mistakes are mine, blah blah blah.  Also no condoms again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile for the Camera

There are three things I hate doing:  laundry, dusting, and grocery shopping.  I have no problem ignoring dust, and I can go for a long time before I run out of t-shirts and panties, but there’s only so much fast food I can stomach, and I have to have real cream for my coffee.  If I’m going out for that, I might as well make a list and get it all done.

The handles of the plastic bags I’m loaded down with are digging into my arms and cutting off the circulation in my fingers but I’ll be damned if I’m making two trips to carry everything in.  Somehow I manage to get the door unlocked and opened without putting anything down but as soon as I step foot inside, one of the bags breaks and my eggs bite it.

“Fucking motherfucker!”  I yell, kicking the door shut behind me and letting the rest of the bags fall to the floor.

“Language.”

Jem Coughlin, of course.  Lounging on my couch, clicking through the channels on my TV just as casual as you please, acting like he owns my place even though I haven’t seen him outside the club in three months.

“Fuck you, Jem,” I say, glaring at him on the way to the kitchen for paper towels.

“Any time, any place, baby,” he says, smooching the air and laughing. 

I roll my eyes at him on the way back and he just laughs harder.  God, I wish I could hate that sound but it makes me want to forget about cleaning up busted eggs and putting away groceries.  I’d much rather take a running leap onto his lap and ride him like a rodeo bull. 

He comes to stand over me while I’m down on my knees mopping up and my eyes involuntarily travel up, getting stuck for a few lip-biting seconds on his crotch.  He’s totally freeballing as usual but it’s never been so obvious or maybe it’s just my vantage point.  Whatever, it’s fucking hot.  Being on my knees in front of Jem will never not be hot to me and he knows it, the bastard.  When our gazes meet, his mouth curls into a pervy smile.

“Sorry I ain’t been able to come by.  I been busy.”

“No you’re not but how about getting busy now and helping me out here,” I say, looking pointedly at the bags all around me.

He looks at me like s _eriously?_ but he does it and seeing Jem toting grocery bags is like seeing a dancing bear, funny and kind of cute but no less dangerous.  When he finishes, he leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, watching me put everything away.  “Aw, you missed me, huh?”

I cut my eyes at him.  “I missed _fucking_ you.  Two very different things.  What, all out of costumes?  I was hoping for Dr. Coughlin and his stethoscope, or maybe Plumber Jem, here to snake my drain.  Are we doing the helpful grocery store clerk and the lonely, horny housewife?”

“Maybe I just came to see you.”

I pause in the act of putting something into a lower cabinet.  I’m bent over and when I turn my head his way, Jem’s predictably eyeing my ass.  He stares a few seconds longer before looking at me with his brows raised and a little one shouldered shrug like _what do you expect_?  “That is such bullshit, Jem Coughlin.”

“Yeah, it is,” he says, bursting into laughter and I give in and join him.  My desire to be fucked far outweighs my need to remain annoyed at him for staying away so long.  “So I got somethin’ to show you,” he says, with a sly grin. 

I blush deeply, thinking of the last thing he had to show me, out in the middle of nowhere on the hood of his shitty car, and he smiles full-out, flashing teeth, remembering the same thing.  He doesn’t say anything though, just digs in the pocket of his leather jacket and pulls out…

“Why do you have a camera?” I ask stupidly. 

He doesn’t answer right away because he’s fiddling with it.  And then he raises it up between us, cupped in his big hand, and I see the front lens and the flip-out LCD screen on the side.  “Camcorder,” he corrects.  “Top of the line.  Pretty fuckin’ nice, huh?  I was thinkin’ about you when I bought it.”

“In the best way possible, of course,” I say, smirking.

“Of course.”  The thing beeps and a red light on top comes on and he levels it at me.  “Smile for the camera, baby.”

“No way,” I say, throwing a hand up to hide my face.  “I look like hell.”  I don’t really but ironically, I hate having my picture taken.  I actually look pretty good today in my little girl next door costume: bare face, messy ponytail, white cropped camp shirt and faded denim pencil skirt. 

He pans the camera slowly down to my flip-flops and back up again.  “Bullshit.”  He steps to me and circles my wrist with his forefinger and thumb, moving my hand out of the way so he can focus on my face.  “You look like a good girl today.” 

“What do you mean, today?  I’m a good girl every day,” I say, licking my lips and staring into the camera.   Switch flipped.  Here we go again.  

“So maybe you wanna be a little bad.  For me.”  The camera makes a faint whirring sound and I know he’s just zoomed in on my mouth.  He shifts his gaze from the LCD screen and proceeds to eye fuck me into submission. 

“For you and that?” I say, nodding at the camera.  “I don’t think so.  You might show somebody.”  He could show it to half the dudes in town and it wouldn’t be anything they hadn’t already seen from a dozen different angles. 

The camera beeps again as he shuts it off.  He does this thing with his face where he goes from looking like he’s trying to decide how he’s going to fuck me first to looking almost harmless with just the tiniest shift of muscles.  His eyes are still stripping me bare, though, and he says, “Ain’t nobody gonna see this but me, myself and I,” dropping a hand to his crotch and squeezing his cock on the I.

The thought of him jerking off to a video of me has me ready to rip my clothes off right here in the kitchen.  Not just yet though.  “I can’t believe I’m actually considering this.  How bad is a little bad?” I ask.

“We can start small.  You can show me what you got on under there,” he says, touching the top button of my shirt.

Part of my hesitation is real.  I’ve never made a sex tape and never really considered it until now.  It’s one thing to fuck someone six ways to Sunday but quite another to let them make you the star of their personal porno.

Fucking Jem Coughlin.  I can’t say no and for a hot second I wonder where my line is with him.

I sigh and again, it’s only half feigned.  “Ok, but not in here.”

I watch him react to the girliness of my room.  It’s mostly white with a few black accents and black blackout curtains.  The queen black sleigh bed is a messy unmade nest of different sized pillows and a fluffy duvet.  Chyna White shit is scattered here and there: my outfit from last night on the floor next to the bed, so tiny I could almost ball it up and hide it in my fist, white wigs on their styrofoam heads on the dresser, a few pairs of stripper heels spilling out of the closet.  We’ve fucked in more ways than a lot of married couples have but it’s weird for him to be in my room, seeing the other me.

He sets the camcorder down, shrugs out of the jacket, kicks off his boots and climbs onto my cloud of a bed, reclining back against the headboard like a king on his throne. 

“Get up there,” he says, pointing a ringed finger toward the high footboard.

I do it but I take my time.  “Now what, Scorcese?”

“Cute,” he says, smirking and shaking his head.  “Lights, camera, action.”  He takes the camcorder up again and aims it at me.  “Undo those buttons.  Slow.”

When I bring my hands up to do it, they’re actually trembling a little.  I’m going slowly alright, because I can’t get my fingers to work.  Once they’re all undone, I pause and look up at him, waiting for more instructions.  He’s watching me, not the LCD screen, with his eyes narrowed and his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth.  I swear to God, I am not going to survive this.  But if I’m going down, I’m taking him with me.

“Show me.”

I start to part my shirt and then stop.  “You promise you won’t let anybody see this?”

“Fuck, I told you—”  He winces and reaches down to tug at the crotch of his jeans.  “I promise, ok?  Now c’mon, lemme see those pretty tits.”

I flash him a little cleavage and get a glower in return that makes my stomach flutter.  I open one side, then the other, baring my bland beige bra, but by the look on Jem’s face you’d think I’d already whipped it off.    

“Keep goin’,” he says, his voice going deep and rough already.

I shrug the shirt off and have a silly urge to cover myself.  Sure, I get naked for a living but this is different.  The camera adds a dizzying level of intensity.  Taking a deep breath, I pop the front closure on my bra and peel the cups back. 

“Yeah,” he says with an appreciative whistle.  “Now show me how you like it.”  The camera whirs again as he zooms in on me touching my tits, first lightly stroking and then squeezing.  When I pinch my nipples, I moan and he makes an indescribable sound; when I boost my boobs up and tongue them, he loses his shit.  He drops the camera and leans forward like he’s about to jump me.  “You been fuckin’ holding out on me.”

“Chill,” I say, and he sits back again but he looks like a coiled spring.  “You should know by now I have many talents.  I’m not just gonna put everything out there from the jump.  Now shall I continue?” 

He snatches the camera up again with a dirty sneer and a lift of his chin.  “Go on.  Take your hair down and lose the skirt.  I been wondering about what color panties you got on under there.”

I free my hair and look coyly at the camera through the curls that have fallen into my face.  “What if I don’t have any on?”

“You’re a good girl, remember?”

“I slip every now and then.  You’ve been a bad influence.”

He laughs and then laughs some more when I get my skirt off and he sees the relatively conservative hipsters I’ve got on.  “Fuckin’ granny panties.  Those gotta go.”

“You try wearing butt floss almost every damn day,” I grumble while I sit back on my ass to work the panties off without flashing Jem my already slick pussy.  Whatever he wants today, he’s going to have to tell me to do.  I need him to order me around.  I dream about that shit.

I get one leg free and he stops me.  “Leave ‘em there.  For later.”  I have no idea why he’d want my panties dangling on one leg but I can’t wait to find out.

“Ok, Mr. Spielberg.  I’m ready for my close-up.  What now?” 

He looks over the LCD screen again and nods.  And smirks.  Oh shit.  “You’re ready huh?  Let’s see about that.  C’mere.”

I crawl down the bed like I’m at the club, like I’m a cat on the prowl.  Yeah, he likes that.  The camera whirs as he zooms out to get my ass in the frame.  “Yes?” I say, sitting back on my heels and smiling sweetly at the lens.

“We’re gonna do a little thing.  You’re gonna look into the camera and do what I tell you, no matter what it is.  You think a good girl like you can handle that?”

 _Fuck yes_.  “Funny how the longer you’re around, the badder I feel.  I can handle it,” I say, raising a brow and letting my eyes wander to his bulge.

He doesn’t miss it.  He doesn’t miss a thing.  “You like that?”

“Yeah,” I say, licking my lips.

“Tell me.”

I look into the camera, twirling a curl coquettishly.  “I like your cock.  A lot.  I can’t wait to show you how much.”

He reaches out and touches my lips with two fingers.  “Show me what you wanna do.”  

Keeping eye contact with the camera, I flick his fingertips with the tip of my tongue and then caress the underside of both fingers with a slow, flat-tongued swipe.  I swirl around the tips again and then I suck them.  I take his wrist in both hands and slide his fingers all the way inside my mouth, until I gag a little and my eyes water. 

He pulls his hand away and touches the single tear that’s spilled down my cheek.  “Works for me.”  He takes his shirt off, gets on his knees and thrusts his hips forward, putting the object of my desire right in my face.  “Go for it.”

I go for it alright, attacking his belt and jeans with such gusto that for a minute I forget about the camera.  Jem doesn’t hesitate to remind me.  “Eyes up here, girl,” he says, tugging my hair and tilting my head back.    

I focus on that dumbass lens as I do to his cock what I did to his fingers.  When I work the last couple of inches down, he lets the camera sag and we stare each other down, not even breaking eye contact when I have to jerk back and suck air.  He gives me a few seconds to catch my breath before he pulls me forward again, going slow for the zoomed in camera.

“Fuck, you should see how you look right now,” he groans.  “On your hands and knees, worshippin’ my dick…pretty little good girl gone bad.  Oh but wait, you can see for yourself later when I let you watch it while I fuck you stupid from behind.”

I moan at the thought of watching myself be filthy for Jem while he’s wearing my pussy out and he laughs until I switch up and blow him like I’m going for broke, until his eyes go unfocused and he’s gritting his teeth and I’m sure he’s going to lose it and shoot down my throat.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he growls, pushing me away and onto my back.  He finishes stripping his jeans off while somehow keeping that goddamn camera going.  Grabbing me by the hip, he drags me forward to where he’s kneeling on the bed.  He slides the panties still hanging around my ankle up to my knee and hikes my leg up so that I’m wide open and ready for him and brings the other end up and presses it into my mouth like a stretchy horse bit.  He gives me a nasty smile and taps my chin.  “Don’t fuckin’ let it go.” 

When he plunges into me I have to clench my jaw to hold back the stream of dirty words I want to scream and to keep from losing my grip on the panties.  I can moan and whimper though, and I do, loud and long until I get hoarse, and he just keeps pounding into me so hard my poor bed sounds like it’s coming apart.  Jem’s still filming, holding me in place with one hand on my belly and panning up and down my body with the camera in the other. 

“You say you missed fuckin’ me?  Am I making up for lost time?  Huh?  Huh?”  Each word he speaks is punctuated by a snap of his hips and a streak of pleasure as his cock hits all the right spots.

“Mmm hmmm.”  I move his hand from my belly to my boob and he squeezes in time with his strokes before giving my nipple a hard pinch and guiding my hand to my pussy.

“Time for your big scene.”   

I finger my clit furiously, dying to give us both what we want.  I can only imagine what I look like, all frantic and greedy and my lust-glazed eyes fixed on that camera.  I’m going to give him a scene he’ll be rewinding until the tape breaks.  He grips me behind the knee of the leg that’s stretching the panties to the ripping point and flattens my thigh against my chest so he can get deeper and I gasp when his cock finds uncharted territory, letting the panties go but Jem doesn’t even care anymore.

“Is that it?” he pants, swiveling his hips and making me cry out.

“Yeah,” I whisper, my breath shaky and shallow.  God, I’m so close and I need it so bad.

His pace speeds up and then gets erratic; he’s almost there.  “Yeah?  Ah fuck, come on baby. Come for me.”  He sinks his teeth into his lower lip and squeezes his eyes closed with pleasure.  He goes still.  “Fuck baby.  Fuck.”  His eyes roll back in his head and he sucks in a breath and then he’s staring down at me as he goes over.  I can feel him pulsing inside me and then I’m there too, thrashing around beneath him and digging my nails into the rock hard arm that’s got me pinned to keep from flying off into space.

When I get my eyes open, Jem’s on top of me, groping around for the camera and then aiming it at our sweaty faces.  I guess he dropped it while I was coming hard enough to throw my back out.  “Jesus.  That’s a fuckin’ wrap.”

I lay there for a while after Jem gets up, wallowing in my soft sex-scented sheets and listening to him do what dudes do in bathrooms:  piss, run the water forever, open the medicine cabinet.  When it gets too quiet, I crack one eye open to see him standing in the bathroom doorway and looking in the direction of the bed, so naked and full of himself it’s rude.  For a moment I panic, worried that he’s about to say or do something I don’t want to deal with but then he opens his mouth and sets everything right again.

“So what’s to eat around here?”  He tosses something that lands near my head:  a wet washcloth.

“I’m not gonna fuck _and_ feed you.  Go see for yourself.”  I sigh with relief.  Touchy feely crisis averted.

He raids my cold pizza stash, which is almost unforgiveable, and then we have our viewing party and Jem fucks me slow and easy from behind, just like he promised.  Actually it’s slow and easy until the end of the tape, when he pushes my upper body flat to the mattress and holds me down with a hand on the back of my neck and does indeed fuck me senseless. 

The tape is just as ridiculous as I expected, so filthy I can hardly stand to see myself.  But the part that gets me is when Jem dropped the camera.  You can’t see anything but blurred sheets but the sounds we’re making, the way he goes from words to desperate groans, the way his voice breaks when he comes, makes my pussy heavy and achy with need all over again.

I stay curled up in bed, watching Jem get dressed.  He picks up the camera and stuffs it back in his jacket pocket, patting it like treasure.  “I’ll bring you a copy next time.  I guess I’ll accept this for payment on that shit you did to the Flamer.”

“You fucker,” I say, firing a pillow at his head.

He ducks and disappears, that rusty laugh the last thing to go.

 


End file.
